Genesis
by WingedNinja28
Summary: Danny Fenton just moved to Amity Park. With embarrassing ghost hunting parents, and a tendency to screw up in public, how is he going to fit in at Casper High? Well his chance at a normal life nose-dives after an accident in his parents Ghost Portal, making him different as different can be. Danny thought he knew who he was... maybe he was wrong. Before Mystery Meat!
1. Prolog! Danny

**Okay call me the worst author EVER, but I'm on a total creative overload, ya know when you have WAY too many story ideas to NOT write them down? Well school's out so that's my excuse. So here is another story, deal with it:P I thought about making a fem-Danny but I was like 'fem-Danny is cool and all, but you can't make DxS with a fem-Danny.' that decided it for me, Danny is Danny. So here goes nothing...  
disclaimer: you only WISH I owned the coolest half-ghost series ever!**

**One more thing, I noticed all the grammar errors and re-wrote it, kinda-sorta... heh... ANYWAY! **

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**Genesis**

**By: WingedNinja28**

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I peered out of the dark tinted window of my parents ridiculously high-tech 'assault' RV. But in truth, the vehicle _looked_ more threatening than it actually was. Then again, maybe that's because I'm forced to see this thing every day, so my opinions on it may be somewhat tainted.

For anyone new here I guess I should explain; the universe and Lady Luck tends to have favorites... and then the people who aren't so lucky. Let's just say that my sister Jazz and I got the latter.

To people who don't know us, the Fenton family that is, we're freaks. To people who _do _know us, we're still freaks. It's not like I really blame the accusers, I would have called us the same thing. But family's family.

My parents hunt ghosts and they invent ecto-weapons for a living. They originally worked for the Guys in White, or whatever the hell they're called. My parents invented their weapons.

The G.I.W. is a branch in the government for ghost hunters. Kind of like the Men in Black, only for ghosts and not for aliens. I think the whole thing is just a bunch of bull. Sure I believe in ghosts, but I think it's stupid to set up a whole branch in the _government _for the sole purpose of hunting them down.

_Hello? _They're ghosts, it's not like you can just lock them in a cage.

Anyway.

I drew my attention away from the window and to my parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton.

My father was still seething over the loss of his and moms' jobs, and my mother was trying to calm him down. See, that's what I meant when I said 'originally worked', they were fired. Apparently the weapons that my parents created were too unstable. Well, that's what they told us. But I had a sneaking suspicion that the GIW found someone better.

"Jack, honey," mom was saying, "look on the bright side, we're moving to one of the most haunted towns in the USA! Then maybe we can actually _hunt _those ectoplacmic scum-bags, instead of create weapons we can never even use."

My mother was a lithe woman, who stood proudly at a whopping five-foot four. She had a rather small yet extremely agile frame. Mom had the form of an hour-glass, in a way, curving out, then in, then out again in all the right areas. Her teal-blue spandex suit only highlighted this fact, much to my sisters and my dismay. She had a soft, motherly aura about her and you would probably never guess she was a ninth-degree black-belt in karate. Her deep auburn and silver streaked hair was cut into a sharp bob, the ends flipping in slightly at the bottom of her jaw. Her thin lips and prominent cheek-bones and features indicated mesmerizing beauty in her youth. But age tended to take its toll with both laugh and scowl lines that the makeup refused to cover up. Her calculating deep-green eyes looked as though she were predicting what was going on inside your head and she was riddling out a way to get you to fess up.

Despite mom's encouragement, dad still didn't perk up. Still sulking in the shot-gun seat, scowling at the road in front of him.

My father, a sharp contrast to his wife, was almost Santa-like in appearance. With a large frame, a hight of six-foot-five, a bright orange spandex suit, and the hard-earned belly of a man with too much fudge, dad was almost always immediately dubbed as the _orange teddy-bear daddy. _Moderate features indicated that dad wasn't the most attractive man in his class, he more average in appearance. His face was creased with countless laugh-lines, which gave the outward impression of a jolly, happy man. He had stunning, light blue eyes (similar to my own) that could have been seen from miles around. He had a short-cropped hairstyle, what were once jet-black strands of hair were now blended with a fine dusting of grey and white. Almost as though someone had dumped a salt-and-pepper shaker on the top of his head.

I remained silent in the back, because I was not in the best mood. Shortly after my parents lost their jobs, my mom found this wincey little town called Amity Park in Illinois.

Supposedly it _was _one of the most haunted towns in the country and my parents insisted on moving us there. So they could continue their ghost 'research.'

Amity Park was going to be a huge change from New York City. I wish we could just stay in NYC, there's _plenty_ of good haunting there. But according to mom, in Amity Park, the ghosts didn't just haunt people... _they attacked them. _All the more reason _not _to move to Amity.

Not to mention that we were moving right in the middle of the semester, so I would have a butt load of homework to catch up on.

The car trip seemed to drag on for hours, and I just couldn't take it anymore. Normally I wouldn't resort to this, but I couldn't help myself. They left me no choice.

"Mom, are we there yet?" I found myself asking. Even in my own ears, I sounded like a whiny five-year-old. It was a last resort, but it had to be said.

"About ten minutes Danny, we'll be there soon," mom promised. I muttered a soft _'whatever' _before I raked a hand through my unruly jet black hair and turned my attention to the scenery outside.

As much as I was excited to _get out of the car,_ I was also dreading arriving. With my luck, I'll probably be immediately dubbed as the school weenie and constantly get picked on (happenings at my last school). Or I'll get lost and look like a total dumbass (happenings at the school before that).

I'm not the luckiest person in the world. Or the best-looking, either. I had always been too tall, thin, and lanky for my age. I was a solid five-foot-eight, but without the bulk of a football player, or the lithe of a basketball player, or the agility of a soccer player. Sure, I had put on _some _mussel within the past six months, trying to better my self-image, but it did next to nothing. My ratty and unruly jet-black hair was always a careless mess on top of my head, that hung low into my icy blue see-from-space eyes. Walking into high school at the beginning of the year, I hoped that the feature would draw some attention to me, but it worked about as well as keeping the family's' fudge away from dad.

But I'd take being a cowardly, black-haired, blue-eyed, scrawny klutz than a stupid, stereotypical jock any day of the week.

My train of thought broke as our huge assault RV entered a small gaunt-looking town. The paint on the buildings was fading and the pavement was cracked from either too many cars, or out of age. Probably the latter.

This town immediately struck me as _haunted._ And the gloomy over-cast sky didn't do anything to help the town's aura. Welcome to Amity Park...

"Are we there yet?" I asked yet again, partly to prove my point.

Mom sighed, knowing what would happen if she said the wrong thing. "Almost there sweetie," she spoke slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. I sighed and took in my new 'home town.'

There were not many people around, aside from a few joggers, dog-walkers, shop-keepers, and police officers. _But where were all the teens? _There had to be some... wait, school. It was a Friday after all, although it must be earlier than I thought.

This was good, a huge metallic silver assault RV with the word FENTON scrawled across the side in bright green letters usually don't really help with making a good first impression. And my first impression would nose-dive if school had let out and I was caught in this thing.

I was starting to get anxious; all the by-standers bewildered stares were making me antsy. I drew myself away from the window of the RV, knowing that the towns people couldn't see me if they tried, these windows were like one-way glass after all... but I still didn't like the feeling of being stared at, like a celebrity or a freak.

After what seemed like an eternity, the RV abruptly stopped and an exited sequel came from my once-gloomy father, as he jumped on his seat and shouted enthusiastically, "Were here kids! Up an' attem Jazzy-pants! Take a look at our new home!"

My sister 'Jazzy-pants' (She's never going to live that down), jerked awake with a soft snort, "Einstein had a panda, and he vacuumed fuzzy dinner toast into a blender!" She mumbled, half-asleep from her five-hour long nap (can you see why I want to get out of the car?).

I hastily opened the door of the RV, and scrambled out. "Finally, FRESH AIR!" I found myself shouting.

You try being cooped up in a 'ghost assault vehicle' (G.A.V) with a depressed and slightly gassy father, a constantly rambling mother, and a snoring sister for five hours. I'm telling you, not as fun as it sounds.

I stumbled around the GAV and I got my first real look at our house. I honestly wish I hadn't. _Universe, what could I possibly have done to deserve this? _I thought bitterly.

I struggled to keep the disdain off my face as I stared up at the three-story building.

It had miss-matched orange-colored bricks, dark sunken windows, and a faded teal door. Now if this alone had been our house, I would have skipped around in a circle like a happy little boy, throwing rose peddles everywhere... but no. Placed precisely on top of the structure, was a _huge _metallic silver space-craft like observatory, with a random assortment of satellite dishes pointed every which way, and control panels scattered randomly about.

I face-palmed, _so much for first impressions. _

"Here you go Danny," my mother said cheerfully, as she handed several large, heavy boxes to me, which caused me to tremble under the weight. "Take the stairs to the second floor and your room is at the end of the hall." My mom was practically vibrating with excitement from finally arriving at her new house. Or from what I could tell anyway, the stacked boxes in my arms made it hard to see two feet in front of me.

"Fine," I grumbled as I hauled my crap inside the house.

Amity Park was a supposed to be majorly haunted town, right? Well where are all the ghosts? Shouldn't there be a ghost for just about everything? Like... the Wishing ghost, or the Hunter ghost, or the Rock Star ghost, or maybe even a Box ghost. Yeah, '_fear the almighty wrath of my various boxes!' _I inwardly chuckled at the thought.

I decided to get a good look at the house later, now my main focus was finding my room and getting it set up before my parents have a chance to screw with it.

I managed to scramble up the stairs without - miraculously - falling and dying.

When I arrived at the second story landing, I peered around my piled-high boxes to see a long, faded hallway. Doors were scattered about randomly, and in no particular order. I strolled to the end of the hall, and spotted a tall, pale blue door with a tarnished, stainless-steel handle. This was the door at the end of the hall, and - assuming that it's mine - I gripped the handle, while resting the weight of the boxes on my knee, and pushed open the door.

I set the boxes down and pushed them off to the side as I gazed at my new room.

It had a high, somewhat drafty wood-panned ceiling, with light teal-blue painted walls, and pale colored carpet. The room was big, probably more room than I needed, but I'm not complaining.

Apparently mom and dad bought this place already furnished, because in the middle of the room was a stainless-steel bed, dresser, and desk that I have never seen before in my entire life.

So, I went to work. I pushed the dull grey dresser up againset the wall on the far side of the room. I pulled the almost frame-less bed to the wall opposite of the dresser, and finally I placed the simple-looking metal desk near the large window. Only so I could gaze at the - admittedly - amazing view of Amity Park from where our house was perched on the top on a large hill, overlooking the town.

And now for the hard part: unpacking those boxes.

I sat all four of them on the ground, side-by-side and opened them up.

One contained my clothing; another contained various model rockets that I built in my spare time and some NASA posters. The third held my bed-spread, some pillows and a laptop (protected by the pillows) and... That was it, wasn't it? I mean, what else could there be?

Warily, I opened up the last box, only to show about ten ectoplasmic ray-guns. _Gee mom and dad,_ I thought, _talk about over-protective. _

I shoved my clothing into the metal dresser, threw the deep blue confiter over my bed with the pillows tossed on top carelessly. I arranged my model rockets on top of the dresser (I have always wanted to be an astronaut,) and taped my NASA posters to the walls. Tape would have to do for now, I guess, until I could find a stapler or a tack. And finally I placed my laptop on my desk.

Then I remembered the ecto-guns, sitting in a box, in the middle of my room.

I face-palmed, _just when I thought my work was over. _I sighed and walked over to the weapon-containing box. I had to hide these; God knows I couldn't have dangerous guns placed on my dresser in plain sight, as if they were nothing more than another model rocket.

So, to make a long story short, I found some _pretty _creative places to hide a butt load of guns. You know, under the mattress, duct taped to the back of the dresser, in the closet, hidden in a recently discovered hole in the wall (now covered with a NASA poster)... the works.

I smiled as I stepped back to marvel at my newly re-done room. There were still those four boxes scattered about, I hadn't felt like throwing them away yet, but other than that, the room looked pretty legit if I do say so myself.

I checked my watch, _all of this done before two o'clock. _If I recall correctly the local high school, Plaster High or Casper High or something, let out at three. So that gave me about an hour or so to roam the town without looking TOO too much like a lost fool.

I stepped out of my room and into the long second floor hallway. Closing my bedroom door behind me, I marched down the long hall, and descended down the flight of stairs.

When I reached the main floor, I took a good real look at the inside of where I was going to be living for the first time. Much to my surprise, the inside of our freakish house on steroids looked relatively normal. There was a large main room with a tan L-shaped couch, and a few recliners to match. A low, squat coffee table stood proudly in the middle of the room, and a flat screen hung on the wall.

I shrugged inwardly and, rather found of the decor, left the house with a simple "Mom, I'm going out," in my place.

* * *

I walked up and down the streets of Amity Park. The town was tiny, so it would have taken some real skill to get lost here.

The town was pretty quiet and quaint; so you probably _would_ have guessed that it was haunted. I wondered what the ghosts were like here, were they like floating bed-sheets, or were they like the little girl from the Grudge, or were they somewhere between?

I strolled through the town square, minding my business and did a little sightseeing. I felt the gazes of the local's burn holes into the back of my head. Stares of curiosity for the new kid, probably. Well, either that or they were wondering why the heck I wasn't in school. But I played them no mind.

I felt my stomach clench, as it emitted a low, threading growl. I rolled my eyes_, figures, _I thought as I scanned my surroundings for somewhere to eat.

Seeing nothing, I was about to lose hope and head home when my eyes picked up on a white-and-red fast food place across the street. _How could I have missed that? _I mused to myself, as I walked over to the building.

The 'Nasty Burger,' huh? Gee, that sounds appetizing. So, needless to say, I walked inside.

I opened the door of the 'Nasty Burger,' and looked around.

The place was bigger than it looked from the outside and it immediately reminded me of a 70's diner. With its shiny red-leather booths and its black-and-white checkered floors, I gave it my stamp of approval. It seemed like my kind of place.

There was hardly anyone here, spare a few young couples making out in the booths towards the back. But that is to be expected at any place like this, after all.

After I ordered, I sat down at a booth near the front with a burger and a Pepsi in tow. I was just about to take a bite out of my much-needed food source when I saw the front door of the restaurant open and two teens stumbled in. One - from where I was sitting - looked to be panting, while the other was laughing her head off.

"Tucker, how many times do I have to tell you? If you are going to try to pick up on a girl, _don't hit on the quarterback's girlfriend!" _The pale, Gothic looking girl attempted to scold the African-American boy, but her attempts where futile as she dissolved into hysterical fits of laughter.

"How was I supposed to know that she was taken, Sam?" The geeky guy said tonelessly, as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Um, because she's an A-lister, dude. Duh." The girl - Sam - stated the fact like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as she continued to snicker.

Tucker grumbled to himself and stared at the floor. I chuckled, then I drew my attention back to my burger and continued eating. I heard both the teens stop laughing abruptly and I froze as I head two pairs of footsteps walk towards my booth.

The Goth looking girl - Sam, I think - cleared her throat, directly in front of me.

Oops... they probably heard me laugh.

"Something funny?" The girl asked, the humor that once invaded her voice was now non-existent.

I looked up, unable to keep the smirk off my face. I turned to the techno kid and said, "Dude, you really hit on an A-lister?"

The tech kid adjusted his ketchup-red beret sheepishly, "Yeah..." he began, the corners of his mouth tweaking into an almost un-noticeable smile.

"_Nice..." _I put extra emphases on that one word. And at that moment, we all started to laugh hysterically.

Once our laughing faded into scilence, Sam and... Tucker, I think, slid into the booth across from me.

"You're new here right?" Sam asked curiously, I nodded. "Well, I'm Samantha, but call me anything but Sam and you'll regret it. And this is Tucker, but call him Tuck," she said this somewhat hastily, almost slurring her words as she gestured to the African-American boy next to her.

I didn't tell her that I already knew their names, because then I would sound like a serious stalker. So instead I just said, "Danny."

Now that I got a real look at them, I saw that Tucker was a larger boy with the big, bulky frame of a wrestler. Prominent mussels as well as fat could have easily been spotted by just one glance at the kid. He had a firm jaw and high cheek-bones, as well as a deep set of cold, guarded teal-green eyes. Tucker wore a deep yellow-gold long-sleeved shirt, a pair of green cargo-pants (that were a little on the tighter side) hung from around his waist, and his feet were hidden in a pair of black Jordans. A pair of thick-rimmed round glasses framed his eyes and masked his face to some degree, along with his red beret that completely covered his (probably) short black hair.

Sam, however, was a little on the shorter side. She had a small, thin, athletic, pixie-like frame, like that of a cheer-leader (although it was obvious that she did not partake in the sport). Long, slender mussels stretched along her pale, skinny arms. She was such a contrast to Tucker in appearance that it seemed odd that they would be friends. Sam wore a loose black crop-top, with a deep purple Paramore logo, that cut off just above her belly button. She was also wearing a black shredded mini-skirt with a neon-green plaid design, a spiky, punk-like belt, deep purple fish-net leggings, and clunky black combat boots. Her thick, midnight hair was pulled back into a high half-ponytail, and the rest hung in choppy layers that fell just above her shoulders. Thick eye-liner and deep black, silver, and purple eye-shadow adorned her wide sparkling amethyst eyes, creating a smokey effect.

I don't really know how long we sat there, talking, laughing, and, in Tuckers case, singing. It felt like ten minutes, but when I looked at my watch, I discovered that we have been there for a little over four hours.

But none of us really wanted to leave.

Maybe Amity Park isn't such a bad place after all.

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**So this was the first chapter. I had to end it here because I just couldn't write this chapter anymore. this was kinda a prolog. It _was _a Prolog so... the real stuff starts in the next chapter. So did you like? Hate? want to beat me with a piece of lunch meat? Well, EXPRESS those feelings in a review! **


	2. Alarm Clocks of DOOOOOM! Danny

**Hey! WingedNinja28 here! Second chapter is upppp! I would like to thank anyone who reviewed/favored/followed! This is where the real story starts- the last chapter was just a prolog. So...**

**By the way- Danny is not going to be so Debby-downer-like in this chapter... now that the Fenton family is remotely settled in Amity Park, and now that Danny has made a few friends, he's going to be in a better mood;)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned that show there would be many more seasons. Trust me.**

**(This takes place three weeks into the future! Yeah that's right, Clockworks got nothing on me!)**

**Chapter two: Alarm Clocks Of DOOOOM! **

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**Always Loved****  
****By: WingedNinja**

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My alarm clock went off with its usual loud, obnoxious ring. I punched it several times, "shut up, shut up, _shut up!" _I muttered as I continued to abuse the thing, its piercing shriek cut through the once-peaceful morning air, like a razor sharp knife, slicing through tissue paper.

"I get it, I get it!" My voice was starting to rise as I gave the clock one last hearty whack, but to no avail. I then hauled my butt out of bed, and fumbled blindly for the outlet nearby. When I found it, I grasped a thin, round cord sprouting from it, and pulled, _hard. _The cord gave way, and the clocks painfully-loud wail ended abruptly. _Thank God, _I thought as stood up, and turned on my small, bed-side lamp.

I shot a glare at the now silent alarm clock, "You better watch your power cord, alarm clock. Because I will get my revenge, and you are going to wish you were never _manufactured." _I told it venomously, shooting it another scowl before turning to my steel dresser.

I pulled on my usual attire, baggy jeans, a plain white shirt with a nameless logo, and red converse. I continued my usual complicated morning rituals that consisted of the fine art of brushing my teeth and raking a hand through my unruly jet-black hair.

I opened my bedroom door and made my way downstairs sleepily. As I crossed the threshold of our small indigo-colored kitchen, I saw my ginger sister Jazz sitting at the small, round dark-oak table in the middle of the room, her nose firmly pressed into her one of her countless philology books. She would call her 'interest' in philology a passion, whereas I would call it an obsession. But at least she knows who she is and she has something that she's good at.

"Morning Danny," she said in her usual over-peppy voice.

"Mornin' Jaz...z..." I broke into a yawn, stretching my arms over my head. "Mom an' dad done 'n the lab yet?" I slurred.

We moved here almost three weeks ago, and almost as soon as my parents unloaded their ghost hunting equipment into their lab in the basement (apparently, mom and dad bought this place with a fully-operational ghost hunting basement-lab), they set to work, almost never leaving the lab... spare meal-times and the occasional fudge-trip to the kitchen. What they were working on, I didn't know. They never told us, claiming that it was some kind of surprise.

"No. Surprise, Surprise," Jazz said, rolling her eyes.

"Corse," I mumbled as I poured some cereal into a bag, and ate it dry, the remainder of my drowsiness fading to non-existence.

Uninterrupted and slightly awkward silence passed between my sister and me. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I said "Well, would you look at the time!" I tapped my wrist for dramatic effect. Well, I guess that move would have worked better, had I been wearing a watch. "I told Tuck and Sam I would meet them at Tuck's pla-"

"Mmhmm..." Jazz said, obviously lost in her book, "go ahead, Danny. Have a nice day..."

I grinned and, stumbling slightly, jogged out the door.

What I said wasn't a lie- I _was _actually going to meet Sam and Tucker at Tucker's place, his house was our meeting spot, for the time being. Tuckers house was chosen out of default. It was, after all, the closest to school.

We couldn't meet at my place because it was practically a construction zone. We may have been here for a little less than a month, but there were still boxes, packing peanuts, ectoplasmic-energy guns, bubble wrap, and Styrofoam _everywhere._

We couldn't meet at Sam's either, she declared her house strictly off-limits, she said it had something to do with her parents, but I didn't push for details.

After a few minutes of walking, I spotted Tuckers' small, gray house. As I approached, I saw the techno-geek himself seated on the front porch, PDA in hand. "Hey, Tuck," I said, walking over to him.

"Hey, Danny," Tucker said in a somewhat monotone voice, "T.G.I.F."

I cocked an eyebrow, "Tucker," I said slowly, drawing out the word. "S.H.I.T."(1)

Tucker looked taken aback, he casted a glance at his PDA, and looked back up at me. "Danny- it's Friday."

"Oh," I said, feeling like an idiot.

We continued to chatter aimlessly for a few minutes, until a voice behind me spoke, "Hey, Danny." I jumped a good foot in the air and spun around.

Once again, I felt like an idiot when I faced a rather shocked-looking Sam.

"Oh, hey Sam. Sorry- didn't see you there," I said hastily. She nodded, "Well, what are you two waiting for? School starts in twenty." Exchanging a glance, Tucker and I shrugged, and followed Sam towards another _exiting _day at Casper High.

* * *

"Today class, we will start reading an allegory novel called _Animal Farm,_ by Gorge Orwell," said the over-preppy and slightly over-weight English teacher, Mr. Lancer. _Allegory... Farms... reading... _Not my thing. I felt myself start to space-out, staring blankly at the white-board with glazed-eyes. This day was going to be a complete drag, I could tell. My thoughts started to wander to the lab in our basement.

_It never, _ever _takes my parents this long to invent something. Not even the_ '_Fenton Ecto Canon' a huge, classic-style canon about as big as a king-sized bed. What could they possibly be making...?_ My thoughts were interrupted by a loud _crack _on my desk.

Startled, I looked up to see Mr. Lancer, ruler in hand, standing over me with a scowl on his face. "Up in space, Mr. Fenton?" There were a few snickers from the class.

I smiled sheepishly, "Don't hate, Mr. Lancer- space is actually really nice this time of year."

Lancer glared, "Well, I'm afraid you have used up your vacation time, Mr. Fenton. So now will you please _pay attention in my class?"_

I held up my hands, "Sure, sir." It was a lie. I was fully intent on zoning back out as soon as he started talking again. Lancer nodded, and strolled back to the front of the classroom, saying something about a pig named Napoleon.

What seemed like hours later, the bell, signifying the long-awaited end of first-period rang. It's piercing shriek reminded me of a certain _something _that was going to get hit with a baceball bat if i ever hear a sound from it again...

I met up with Sam and Tucker by our lockers (meraculisly, I got the empty locker between Sam's and Tucker's).

"Hey guys," I said casually.

"Hey," they said at the same time. They gave each other a wary glance before turning back to me.

I smiled, "So you guys have PE next?" I asked.

Sam nodded, also smiling. Tucker rolled his eyes, "Yeah, we have the next two periods toget-" he was about to clarify when he was cut off by a loud yell, "FENTON!"

I'm pretty sure I gave out a very un-manly and undignified squeak of fear.

Dash Baxter, the schools star quarter-back, and top A-list bully. With me and him- it was bully at first sight. When I first came to Casper High three weeks ago, Dash made me into his own personal punching-bag the _moment _he first laid eyes on me.

"FENTON!" The bully yelled again, storming up to me. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt with one hand, and lifted me into the air, so we were at eye-level.

You know that old jock stereotype, the one that made all jocks look like tall, broad-shouldered idiots that throw footballs to each other down the hallways during passing period? Well Dash never fails to live up to this expectation.

"You see this FEN-TOAD?" He shoved his latest failed test in my face with his free hand, "This F's commin' out of your head!"

"Can't we talk about this?" I pleaded with him as he carried me over to the nearest open locker, and proceeded to shove me in it. He slammed the thin-metal door in my face, locking me in an uncomfortable, confined darkness.

For the umpteenth time in my short three weeks of living in Amity, I wished I could somehow... I donno- _phase _through this locker, and give Dash a taste of his own medicine. Yeah- like _that's _going to happen.

The jock and his buddies' laughter soon died, and I heard the faint _click, click, click, _of the lock on my locker being undone from the outside. The cold metal door was opened, and I came tumbling out, onto the floor.

"Thanks guys," I said to the only two friends I have in this school.

"It's what we do, man," Tucker responded, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Are you okay, Danny?" Sam asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah Sam, I'm fine. At least I got that over with. I mean, it was going to happen _sometime _today, right?" I told her, only half-joking. It was the truth, though. I got pounded- or in Dash's words, 'wailed on'- everyday. I don't even know _why. _I mean it's not like I did anything to him.

"We should head to class," I said, changing the subject. Sam and Tucker nodded, and all three of us headed to our next class, PE, right as the warning bell rung.

Second period with Mrs. Tetslaff, our big, burly, blond PE coach, went on as per usual. The jocks and the wannabe body-builders showed off for the A-list girls, like the absolutely beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed, Hispanic Paulina, and her attractive blonde friend Star.

Sam beat Tucker and I at every obstacle in the obstacle course, _backwards, _while Tuck and I struggled to maintain conciseness. Yeah- I am _not _athletic.

Mrs. Tetslaff blew her whistle loudly, probably louder than necessary, to get our attention fifteen minutes before the end of class. Tetslaff had a mischievous glint in her eyes that I have known all too well, despite my short-lived presence in her class.

"Class," She started, smiling evilly, "Time to play a ol' game of dodge ball..." And if a biased, merciless coach holding a hard, red rubber ball doesn't strike fear into your heart, than nothing will. Especially when she's looking right at you.

* * *

**Hehe- well that's chapter two! I wanted to get a look into the everyday life of Danny Fenton, so you might get a little bit of this in the next chapter (or two-i haven't decided yet) - it all comes into play sometime! So... like? hate? YOU SHOULD TELLLLLL MEEEEEE!**

**tHANK YOU SOOOO MUCH TO... (wAIT- WHY IS cAPS-lOCK STILL ON?)  
BlondieMarie24  
BlackLight999  
****Hellbreaker  
zipporah grace  
CaptainOzone****  
THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR REVIEWS OR FOLLOWS OR FAVORITES OR PM'S OR ADVICE!**

By the way (if you don't know)- S.H.I.T. Does not mean shit! it means  
S orry  
H oney  
I t's  
T hursday  
OKAY! (I swear- thats mainly why this story is rated T)  
Anyway REVIEW!


	3. Bad Idea, Danny and Sam

**Hey! If it took a little while to update- sorry! My updates are never really consistent; life normally gets in the way. I update when I feel like it, when I have time, and when I find inspiration. Thank you SOOOOO much to anyone that reviewed! I have decided a few things, first: this will kinna be a mini fic, like five or six chapters. You can only write so much on the specific DP topic I chose. I just wanted to get the hang of writing in the DP universe. (And I love it, btw)****  
****Second order of business: The new name of this story from here on out will be '_Genesis.' _I know, kinna cliché, but I think it fits. Don't like it? Deal;) Anyway... Ahem... um... Idon'townDannyPhantom! THERE! I said it! U happy now, bro?**

**ON WITH THE STORY!**

* * *

The weekend _finally _came. And just in time too, another secant in Mr. Lancer's class, and my brain would have probably exploded. You would have had to scrape slimy, bloody bits of my exploded brain from the walls, and let me tell you- _no _job pays well enough for that.

The sun was high in the crystal-clear blue, cloud-less sky as Tucker, Sam, and I left the movie theater.

"Dudes, That movie was so awesome!" Tucker smiled at us as he punched the air.

"I, for one, thought it was cruel, gory, and pointless. And that's coming from the Goth," Sam seethed, glaring her signature 'Death-by-Darkness' glare at the theater, as if it had done something wrong.

I chuckled, "I'm going to have to stay neutral on this one guys. I have to admit, _Saw_ isn't my favorite movie- but I don't _hate _it or anything."

The three of us continued talking like this as we made our way over to the Nasty Burger.

* * *

"Well, Sam, if everyone in the world spontaineiosly went deaf," Tucker was saying as we sat down in our booth, "There is a very _real _chance that the world just _might _explode."

"Right, just like how if I gave into my parents demands and dyed my hair blond, wore a bright pink dress, fancy non-Goth jewelry, and _heels... _suddenly the universe erupts into a civil war. Goth vs. non-Goths, pink vs. black, bows vs. spikes." Sam said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

I chuckled, "Sam, whatever you do- do not _ever _change. Just don't your perfect already." Sam froze at my comment, the blood rushing to her cheeks, turning her bright red as a slight smile played across her lips.

Did that come out wrong? My face felt hot, and a long, awkward silence passed between us.

We were all startled into reality when my phone rang and the voices of a band I liked broke the silence.

_All of our bridges burn down. I wasted my knights, you turned out the lights. Now I'm paralyzed, still stuck in that time-_

I mentally thanked my phone as I swept it out of my pocket, pressed the little green button, and pressed my ear to the receiver. "Yeah?" I asked, making sure that my voice included an aura of sarcasm.

"_Danny-boy!"_ My father shouted on the other line enthusiastically, "_Come home right away, son! Your mother and I have done it! The Ghost Portal is up an' running! Other dimension, here we come!" _He boomed this loudly enough that I had to hold the phone away from my ear to prevent permanent hearing damage. This small action caused Jack's words to be heard by Sam and Tucker, who- after exchanging a glance- nodded at me.

I knew the two long enough to read their expressions as easily as an open book. And their pleading expressions didn't make them all that hard to read.

"Um, dad?" I asked, "Can Sam and Tucker come? They want to learn a little about the portal." In turn, my friends grinned at me, Tucker gave me a thumbs up, and Sam mouthed a '_thank_ you_.' _I smiled ruefully at them. Maybe not the best decision on their part, but if that's how they wanted to spend our Saturday...

"_All the better son! Then I could spend the next two hours blathering on about ghosts!" _Why was this man always so exited? I rolled my eyes, "We're on our way," I said, and with that, I hung up the phone.

"I hope you know what you got yourselves into," I told my friends. I never told them much about what my parents do, but the details are pretty hard to ignore, and I know for a fact that Tucker and Sam are more than capable of putting two and two together.

We stood up and left, not having eaten anything.

* * *

"Have you ever even _seen _Little Shop of Horrors, Sam?" Tucker asked as we walked to my house.

"Tucker, an evil plant from space doesn't mean anything! Ultra-recycilo vegetarians are _much _healthier than you meat-eaters!" Sam retorted.

"Meat heightens the senses! Thanks to my all-meat streak, my sense of smell is probably better than both yours and Danny's combined!" Tucker bragged

"Killing cute, harmless, and _innocent _animals is considered _murder _in my book. I'm not about to sink so low as to kill and eat a living, breathing, animal that probably has a home and a family!"

"Sacrifices must be made, Sam! And let me tell you- a cute, harmless, and _innocent _cow does make a delicious, cute, harmless, and _innocent _steak. Meat is something that all humans need, if we want to stay on our A-game, that is."

"Okay!" I interjected just as Sam was about to make her comeback. As entertaining as it was for me to watch this debate, I didn't like where this was going. Plus, we were here.

Although I had been in Amity for a little over three weeks, I somehow managed to keep my friends away from my house. I mean, they've seen the outside of it... it was, after all, almost impossible to miss. But they've never been inside.

For a brief secant, my friends gaped at the... _unusual _appearance of my place, before quickly regaining their poise. I led them up the stairs and pushed open the teal-blue door, exposing the normal interior, despite the discarded boxes, and random, miscellaneous ecto-weapons recklessly lying about, still from the move.

"Come on guys," I told my friends as I led them to a thick, metal door placed on the far wall of my indigo kitchen. In all honesty, _I _have never even been down there, in the lab- that is. The place had been closed off to my sister and me since we moved.

I grabbed the cold handle of the thick door and, with a great effort and the help of my friends; we managed to heave the metal door open. Past the door divulged a metal staircase. Wires hung creepily from the thick metal ceiling like vines, and blinking, multi-colored buttons were scattered along the metal walls. Everything was just made of _metal _wasn't it?

Bright, eerie green mist swept along the floor of the lab and into the kitchen, coating the hard-wood floor in florescent mist, and curled around our ankles like pythons.

Already, I was starting to freak out. But, bighting the inside of my cheek, I led the way down the stairs and into the lab.

"Danny-boy!" Jack shouted gleefully as we descended down the stairs. Seeing Sam and Tucker, my father's grin grew wider, "so you and your friends wanna learn about ghosts, huh?"

"Yeah, Mr. Fenton, it sounds interesting," Tucker spoke up, sitting down in a nearby chair, the rest of us following in suit. "It would be nice to know what _exactly _haunts our town."

My father cast a proud glance to the far corner of the lab. I followed his gaze and saw... a pretty decked out hole in the wall. We waited for him to elaborate, we knew he would.

"This, kids," he started, still grinning, "Is the Fenton Ghost Portal. It lets ghosts in and out of our world. See, the Fenton household was built on something called a _natural portal, _a natural- yet temporary- tear in reality, or a way out of the Ghost Zone... That may be why your town has so many ghost attacks. Anyway, the natural portal our house was built on is the most re-occurring, and the most long-lasting portal ever documented by the Guys in White." Sam and Tucker, thankfully, didn't ask about the GIW... that was the last thing we needed.

"This machine," he continued, "is designed to keep the natural portal open, for as long as it (the machine,) can operate. Now this gate here," dad pushed a button and the two large, metal, black and yellow doors to the 'portal' loudly slammed shut, causing all three of us to jump slightly. Jack chuckled proudly, and with the press of a button, the doors opened again. "Does not do anything other than keep the ghosts at bay. Ghost are evil, you know, all of them. Every last one!" He said this with such confidence that I almost believed him.

_All _ghosts, though? I had a feeling that that theory was not 100% true. And I was sure Sam and Tucker were having the same thoughts. Dad then gave us a small tour of the lab. Although there was not much to see. Everything seemed to be made of metal, the ceiling, the walls, the floors, tables, chairs, and desks- almost everything. There was a large closet in the far corner of the lab, which held the family's jumpsuits.

"Always wear a jumpsuit when handling ectoplasm," Jack was saying, "don't want to risk ectoplasmic exposures now do we? By God, you could come down with a case of ecto-acne! It is fatal, you know." We were silent, just wanting to see the portal, than continue our day.

After another ten minutes of looking around the lab, observing ectoplasm, and analyzing ecto-weapons, Sam spoke up, "Mr. Fenton, this is really interesting and all, but can we just see the Portal?" She hoped it didn't sound too rude, but Jack was too caught up in his own rambling to pick up on it.

"Well of course, kids! Why didn't you just say so?!" He said (or yelled), causing me to face palm. "Maddie?" Jack yelled, "Got the fudge? Let's show these kids a portal!"

Three secants later, a blur of teal dashed down the stairs and into the lab. Maddie stood beside her husband, and the duo smiled happily. A little voice at the back of my mind told me that they were exited (hear the sarcasm?).

"Okay kids, back up a few steps. We don't want anyone getting hurt," she said sweetly, vibrating happiness. We silently obliged.

Mom and dad, or Jack and Maddie **(I'm going to refer to them as the latter) **pulled two cords off the ground. Exchanging one last exited glance, they plugged the wires together.

Wait for it...

Wait for it...

There was a sudden, bright flash of light- a spark- but it was gone as soon as it came.

My parent's expressions turned from enthusiastic to depressed and dejected in a split-secant. Without warning, Jack suddenly burst into tears. Maddie gave us a sad look that read, _you're free to go,_ and took her husband upstairs, muttering something along the lines of '_back to the drawing board.' _Leaving the three of us in a stunned silence.

"Well..." Tucker started, adjusting his red beret, "that was-"

"Sad? Yeah. Did you see their faces? I can't stand to see them like that," I started

"Danny, there was nothing you could do," Sam tried to reassure me, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"...I think we should go guys," I said after a moment.

"Fine," Sam said, "But... Danny, don't you want to at least check it out?"

"No Sam- I can't." I tried for a tone of authority, but failed. Sam smiled, sensing weakness.

"Come on Danny," Sam begged, her bright violet eyes pleading with me. "Pleaseeee?"

"No Sam," I tried to sound firm, but my voice wavered. But Sam's eyes only sparkled, in a way in which only happens when she's about to get what she wants.

"Think about it, Danny," she continued, "A portal to another dimension. _Another dimension! _Danny, doesn't that at least _sound _cool to you?"

"She's right, dude," Tucker piped up, "How many people can say that they've had the chance to see another dimension? It gives us bragging rights, dude! Seriously, go check it out!"

"Well..." I started, beginning to give in to their demands. I peered into the gigantic mechanical hole in the wall. The lack of light in the lab gave it a creepy appearance. The dark walls of the cavern looked sinister, with random wires draping from the ceiling like snakes. As much as I tried to convince myself that it was a bad idea- in fact, it probably _was- _I couldn't seem to shake my ever-growing curiosity.

As much as I hate to admit it, I was just as fascinated by the thing as Sam and Tucker were.

What's the harm? The thing doesn't work anyway.

I turned back to my friends, "Fine, guys, I'll go. But why me?"

Tucker raised his eyebrows, and said in a 'well duh' tone, "You know more about this kind of stuff than we do, Danny... Plus it's _your _family's Portal," He added as an afterthought.

"Point taken," I muttered, still staring at the thing. I was about to step in to check it out, when a thought struck me. Ignoring Sam and Tuckers confused stares, I walked over to a small closet in the lab that dad showed us. The Fenton family's beloved HASMAT/spandex suit collection. I pulled open the door and searched through the closets condense. Even though the Portal didn't work, I really didn't feel like coming down with a case of _ecto-acne _because something went wrong.

Let's see... Dad's gigantic stash of huge orange jumpsuits, mom's large selection of petite teal jumpsuits, and Jazz's small collection of pastel-purple jumpsuits and... Here- my own personal series of black-and-white HASMAT suits. I grabbed one at random and pulled it on. The suit was snug, making it fit more like a spandex suit rather than a HASMAT, like Superman or Spiderman.

"Good idea," Tucker commented, seeing me in my new attire. I shrugged and started to head to the Portal.

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam suddenly said, her purple-stain lips perking upward into a smile. She walked up to me and removed an image of my dad's face from the front of my jumpsuit.

"Oh, thanks," I said, sort of feeling stupid for not noticing it.

"One more thing," she said, taking out her camera. "Go stand by the Portal; it'll be an epic picture!"

I rolled my eyes and complied.

I stood next to the Portal, wearing my black-on-white spandex suit and all its glory, and smiled weakly. Sam snapped a picture and smiled, seemly pleased at the result.

"Done yet?" I asked playfully.

Sam muttered something I couldn't quite catch, and then cleared her throat, her cheeks bright pink. Why, I didn't know.

"Perfect," she said, her blushing pink cheeks now returned to their normally pale complexion.

Still a little confused, I muttered a "Wish me luck," to my friends, and entered the Portal.

Little did I know the mistake I was about to make.

* * *

**Hi. I thought about ending it here but I was like nah- CONTINUE!;)**

I entered the portal, and I was kinna freaked. I couldn't see anything as I pushed my jet black hair away from my face. The machine was perfectly silent. Like the quiet before a storm.

"Anything cool?" I heard Tucker shout, his voice echoing off the cave's walls.

"It's dark," I yelled back. I kept making my way through the portal until I was half-way to the other side (1). "Still don't see anything guys," I shouted to them.

At that moment, my foot caught on something, maybe a loose wire. I stumbled slightly, and almost fell, but luckily I caught myself by placing a pale hand on the wall of the portal. The surface below my hand sank a few millameters, but I hardly noticed.

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief for not falling on my butt because of my clumsiness, and maybe utter a good 'phew,' for good measure... when something happened.

The air started to thin, and it felt weird to breath- like an approaching lightning storm. Growing nervous, I started to make my way out of the Portal.

A slight _hum _filled the air, growing steadily louder, the quiet sound quickly advancing in volume until it was loud enough to surpass a lions' rower.

My sluggish walking and inching turned into a run. I could hear Sam and Tuckers shouting, but they were drowned out by the earsplitting screach of the machine.

I was almost back at the entrance to the portal when it happened. I _almost _made it out.

The air was suddenly filled with electricity, like the worst lighting storm you could ever imagine... and I was caught right in the middle of it. It felt like every inch of my body was being pierced with white-hot swords and, vaguely, I heard myself scream. Waves of fire seemed to shoot through my veins at unnatural speeds, dissolving everything it touched into nothingness. But, really, no words could decribe the pain from the ubeileviable electric shock. The sudden burst of energy and ectoplasm.

I felt my spirit start to slip away from me, like soap slipping through a toddler's hand.

_Does this mean I'm going to die? _The thought was _barley_ coherent through all the pain, and my agonized screams.

_Good... _Was my last thought before I felt a pull on my wrist, and the pain abruptly stopped, the blinding green light that once invaded my vision faded, and I fell into darkness.

* * *

Despair, sadness, and guilt couldn't possibiley _ever _describe what Sam was feeling, having tried save Danny from a painful death by the hand of the portal.

Tears ran down her face as she rested Danny's tan head in her lap. How could she have put him through that?

Bright green smoke still emitted from his body, and a glowing white aura flickered brightly around him. Something Sam supposed was from the initial shock of the Portal.

The girl froze as she realized four things.

He wasn't breathing.

His heart wasn't beating.

...Danny Fenton was dead.

And it was all her fault.

_Please, please, _please _let him be okay, _she thought, prayed, as she cast a glance at a grief-stricken Tucker before turning back to Danny. Sam was so caught up in her mourning, she hardly noticed the changes.

No words were said as she ran her pale hand through Danny's snowy white hair.

* * *

**End! For real this time! (Not the story, just the chapter ;)**

**'_All of our bridges burn down. I wasted my knights, you turned out the lights. Now I'm paralyzed, still stuck in that time...' _Guess the song and you get an invisible cookie!**

**Thank you so much to all of my reviewers! I'm trying to get better at replying to reviews via PM, but I keep forgetting. If I forgot to reply, I'm sorry! Anyway with the (1) thing- I wrote it, not realizing how much of a pun it was:p Read it once or twice carefully, sees if you get it!**

**R&R!**


	4. Not Right, In Any Way, Sam

**Well, here is the long-awaited update! I don't update often, so you should expect a few weeks/months in between updates. I mean, it's either a long _good _chapter once every 1-3 months, or a short, crappy one once every week. (Excuse me if it takes me long to write [I'm a little OCD when it comes to word-choice... not spelling- word choice.])**

**Anywho, I just wanted to point out that this chapter was exceedingly (oooh! big word) hard to write. I'm only good at angst if I myself am in some kind of physical, philological, or emotional pain. Of witch I am none of the above, what with the first home football game and dance happing at my high school, homecoming coming up, and me just a little love-drunk over my crush/obsession, _why _would I be in pain? So my point being- this was hard to write. And I didn't have another story to update that didn't involve some kind of angst, (or approaching angst)... So I'm updating. Hope you like it anywayz!**

***cough cough* I own nothing *cough cough***

* * *

She couldn't think strait; her thoughts were unclear and muddled. Not a single sober thought surfaced in her mind.

Never has that happened before- not when her shofur crashed her family's limo (causing her to break her leg), not when her favorite puggle puppy (Harley) died... It's never happened before. She stared down at her best friends face, who's features displayed an expression of which could only be described as pure agony.

He was unnaturally still, and Sam couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed Danny's frigid hand, and buried her head in his stone-cold chest. And sobbed.

How could this happen!? It wasn't fair! They were only starting to really, _really _get to know him. He couldn't just die on them like that! It shouldn't happen, it couldn't happen, it _didn't _happen!

But here he was- still and unmoving in her clutches. She tightened her hand around his, like that alone would make the cruel reality fade away. Like his frozen hand was her only lifeline.

Sam felt a comforting hand on shoulder. Tucker. Although she couldn't see it, she knew his expression was stoic. Tucker was never one to display his emotions in times like this. Well, then again, neither was she- but this was different. She knew it was. She didn't want to admit it to herself, for that would only make the pain worse, but she lov-

What was that?

No, no it couldn't be, could it? But maybe it was... Sam could feel the hope flood through her. She could feel it spark a flame in the pit of her stomach. _False hope. _It was too good to be true, but-

She sprung upright, and her lilac eyes flew towards Danny's shut icy ones.

_There it was again._

She wasn't hallucinating, after all.

_He moved._

Although he wasn't breathing, his chest still and unmoving, she felt him move. An idea popped into her head. But she almost hoped it wasn't so. If it was, it would only remind her, Tucker, Jazz, Jack, Maddie, and everyone who might have ever known Danny Fenton, of what they had lost. If her theory proved to be right, there would be no _'moving on' _for them.

But she had to try.

From the little that Sam already knew about ghosts is that their hearts still had to beat to circulate ectoplasm throughout their bodies. They did not, however, need to breath. They did not need oxygen to keep their systems up and running, so breathing was pointless.

Sam cast a glance at Tucker, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Although there was a new spark of hope between the two, that still didn't stop the tears from forming at the corners of Tuckers eyes. His tears were no more than due-drops at the moment, but it takes a lot to get Tucker to genuinely cry. It's like training a feral cat to do tricks- virtually imposable.

Without a second thought, she pressed her ear to Danny's chest, and stifled a gasp a moment later. _His heart was beating. _She could hear the weak, and sluggish- yet erythematic- pumping of his heart from under the dark, skin-tight spandex suit. But he wasn't breathing.

_Danny was a ghost._

Suddenly it made sense, the polarization of Danny's appearance after she pulled him out of the portal. At first, she thought it was an after-effect that it would wear off in a few minutes time- but now it made sense.

From what she paid attention to in Jacks lecture, she thought she heard him say something about how crossing over into the ghost realm after death... could alter ones appearance. For Danny did not have the same jet-black hair that Sam has come to know, or even his I've-never-seen-the-sun pale complexion for that matter.

His sun-kissed tan face was framed by a mess of stark white hair. Not to mention his suit. It was white before, right? Well, it's black now... (Not that she disapproved).

If Danny was a ghost... than what would that mean for them- the friendship that all three of them formed? Would anything change? _Of coerce nothing is going to change! _Her mind screamed at her, _ghost or not, Danny is still our friend- our _best _friend!_

But according to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, if Danny was in fact a ghost... he wouldn't their friend anymore- he wouldn't be _Danny _anymore. From what she gathered, ghosts were no more than a 'post-human consciousness... imprinted onto ectoplasm' whatever that means.

But she got the Fentons main point. Ghosts were evil. They envied human life to a point where they acted vile, and hateful towards us.

And if Danny was a ghost... was he any different?

_He has to be,_ Sam thought, straining hard to listen to the slow, shallow, _thump, thump, thump _of Danny's weak heart. Yet his chest neither rose nor fell.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, sitting there, waiting for that fateful moment for him to finally open his eyes. His _blue _eyes. Ghosts had red (but sometimes (rarley) green) eyes, so she had been told. But his icy eyes were the ones that she was dying to see.

Suddenly, Sam felt Danny's hand tighten around hers, and Sam jumped. Her eyes were three times their normal size as her head whipped in Tuckers direction. Tucker had a look of confusion clearly displayed on his face, portraying that he did not catch what just happened.

"Tuck-" Before she could complete that single word, though, Sam was cut off. Her gaze snapped back to Danny, and she heard him let out a strangled gasp, that quickly dissolved into a wild fit of coughing. Danny shot upright, his eyes still closed, as if fearing what he might see.

"_Danny!"_ Sam cried, unable to contain herself. His eyes opened, and looked directly at her. Sam let out a small gasp, and so did Tucker, as they peered into Danny's glowing, neon green irises.

"W-W-What happened?" Danny stuttered in a raspy voice. Although his voice healed a certain echo that Sam wouldn't soon forget.

"The P-Portal," Tucker started, trying to regain his poise. "I-It turned-"

"On," Danny finished, his eyes wide. He looked at Sam and Tucker desperately, "What happened?" He asked in a firm, yet panicked voice. "That amount of energy should have killed me, so how... how am I still- still-"

"Danny," Sam cut him off, "you should see this."

She lead him to the small metal bathroom, with Tucker following closely behind.

Danny stood front of the mirror, seemingly memorized by his ghostly reflection. "No," He muttered, unable to accept the truth, "No way." Danny squeezed his eyes shut in deep concentration.

"Danny," Tucker started, "It's too late, there's nothing we can do..." This only seemed to motivate Danny to concentrate more on whatever it was that he was attempting to do. Sam sent him a sympathetic smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get through this," she said, "I promise."

Suddenly, Danny's eyes snapped open, and out of nowhere, two blinding white rings appeared around his waist.

Tucker and Sam jumped back is surprise, as the transformation took place.

* * *

**Okay, yeah- I'm done with this. This chapter, I mean. Not the story:p I didn't really know how to end it, but I wanted this chapter DONE, so I just kinna ended it. Tell me whacha think:D Please?**


End file.
